“Nothing wrong with meringues.” She smoothed the tulle, watching the crystals sewn into the voluminous skirts sparkle. “They’re sweet and light and fat-free.”
Christie screwed up her nose, examining the dress. “I should have brought my sparkly Docs. They would give it more of a hard edge.”
Perhaps they would. But it wasn’t the kind of dress you wore if you wanted a hard edge. This was a dress for fairy tales. The kind of dress princesses wore.
It’s missing something. You’re missing your crown, princess.
Her eyes prickled. Damn pregnancy hormones.
She turned to stare at herself in the mirror, blinking furiously. Why was she thinking of him? She should not be thinking of him.
He hadn’t contacted her and she hadn’t contacted him. They’d both kept their distance from each other. And yet that hadn’t stopped her stupid brain from circling around and around him.
Wondering what he was doing. How he was coping. Whether or not he missed her. Whether or not he’d found her necklace and whether he’d kept it.
She presumed he had because she hadn’t received it back. Either that, or it was still in the guest room of his house.
Dammit. And there she went, thinking of him again. She was getting Obsessive-Compulsive Thoughts of Luke McNamara Disorder.
Annoyed with herself, Marisa swallowed and tried to think about other things. But in the mirror, she saw Christie’s expression turn sympathetic and knew her friend had spotted her distress.
“Hey,” Christie said softly, getting up off the couch and coming over to her. “What’s up? It’s Luke again, huh?”
They hadn’t talked about what happened with Luke in depth because Marisa hadn’t wanted to. And Christie hadn’t pressed. Good thing, too, because she knew what Christie would have said. Christie would have told her to go for it, which was the one thing she didn’t want to hear.
Because you’re too afraid. Afraid you won’t be enough for him.
Yeah, she was. Three cheers for cowards.
“How do you do it, Chris?” Marisa heard herself ask. “How do you manage with Joseph’s ADHD?”
“It’s not easy,” her friend said after a moment. “But we love each other. So we make it work.”
“But what if it doesn’t?”
Her friend grinned but behind it, Marisa caught a glimpse of her friend’s iron determination. “That is not an option.”
It was wonderful to see Christie, who’d hadn’t had much confidence in herself, suddenly blossom with it. And ironic that she, who always thought she had lots of it, in the end had none.
Thinking of Luke, thinking of trying to find him and talk to him, was like being in her father’s studio once again. Gazing at all the beautiful things she wouldn’t be able to make. Because, deep down, she was afraid she just didn’t have the ability.
“So,” Christie said. “Why d’you ask that?”
“Uh-oh,” Judith interrupted quietly. “Marisa. I think there’s someone here to see you.”
Marisa turned, realizing that the shop had gotten quiet.
A man was striding through the doorway. A tall man with immaculately coiffed black hair and a perfectly pressed suit. And gray eyes as focused as a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass.
Luke. How the hell did he know she was here?
“He texted me trying to find you,” Christie murmured to her. “So I told him. Now’s your chance, Mar. Do it.”
He came to a dead stop, staring at her, and the look in his eyes became scorching. His focus even more intent.
And she wanted to run away, but he was blocking the door and she was wearing this stupid, stupid dress. God, what had she been thinking? But really, more importantly, what the hell was he doing here?
“Luke,” she began. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Do you like it?”
“What?”
“The dress. Do you like the dress?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll take it,” Luke said shortly to the saleswoman who was hovering at his elbow. He dug into his trousers, took out his wallet, and handed the woman his credit card.
“Which one?” the woman asked him.
“All of them.”
“Hey,” Judith held up her hands. “You’re not buying my wedding dress.”
“Fine,” Luke said without blinking. “Just the princess one, then.”
Marisa stood there, openmouthed. He was buying her the dress? What the hell was he thinking?
“Luke,” she started again.
But before she could continue, he strode over to her, took her hands in his. “I want to show you something.”
“I…What… Luke, I…”